If Wishes Were Horses :: I'd Ride Away ::
by Renegade87
Summary: 5.11, coda? maybe? takes place after anyways...


**Title: **If Wishes Were Horses (I'd Ride Away)

**Author:** Montecarlogurl87

**Rating:** PG13

**Pairing:** Gen, possible Dean/Sam-ish, or pre-Dean/Sam-ish, but only if you wanna see it

**Spoilers:** 5.11, coda? maybe? takes place after anyways...

**Feeback: **oh hell yea!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Dean or Sam ::damnit:: or anything else from the Supernatural universe

**Author's Note:** the boys are dramarific, and it annoys me, this makes me feel better :)

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Dean drove them straight into another hunt.

It wasn't planned, he just wanted to get as far away from Oklahoma as fast as the Impala would carry them. But it was a welcome distraction, at least for him. Sam had been withdrawn and sullen, silent in the passenger seat for the whole ride.

They drove for almost twenty-four hours, finally crashing in some god-awful safari themed room in upstate New York. It was already giving him a migraine with all its clashing patterns.

They went to the local grease spot in the morning, followed their noses and the old tractor-trailer-turned-sign leading them to 'Sweet Mamma's Diner.'

Sam got a short stack of waffles, they tasted a hell of a lot better than the place smelled, especially after he smothered them in the homemade blackberry syrup. Dean got himself an omelet that was more meat than egg and swirled in his sides of bacon and hash browns on top of it.

Sam just rolled his eyes and grabbed a newspaper that had been left behind in the booth by someone before them. He was barely through his first waffle when the article caught his eye.

"Dude!"

Dean promptly choked on a hunk of sausage and glared, clearing his throat with bitter black coffee.

"What?" he growled.

"I think…I think there's a hunt in this town," Sam answered, voice high and confused, which just reminded Dean a little too much of when he was drugged off his ass some thousand odd miles ago.

"What are you talking about?"

"Apparently a local girl scout troop went camping, three of the girls drowned. The one that was found shivering by the riverbank said there had been a 'pretty black stallion like in the books.'"

"Oh you've gotta be kidding me," Dean groaned, instantly knowing where this was headed.

"Wish I was," Sam sighed, folding the newspaper and spinning it around so Dean could see the black and white yearbook pictures of the three little girls, inset into a grainy shot of a pair of grieving parents next to the water's edge, as the cops searched for bodies that were never going to be found.

"Goddamnit."

"Yeah, basically," Sam sighed again

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They talked to two out of three of the families. The third slammed the door in their faces. And Dean managed to charm their way into the home of the fourth girl, their sole witness.

It had been months since Sam had seen that side of Dean. The side that went soft around the edges and protective of anything smaller than himself. It was a bit startling and even more disturbing, to think that Hell and Lucifer and Sam himself had stressed and beaten and worn down Dean so much that he kept that part of himself locked up so tight now days.

The girl didn't give them much, just that it had been a big black shiny horse and had played with them and knelt down for them to ride. Her three friends had climbed onto its back but she hadn't because she was afraid of heights.

The second the horse stood up it had ran for the river, the screams of her friends being drowned out by the crash of thunder that sounded as the horse disappeared underwater.

Dean just nodded and offered what comfort he could before storming out of the little girl's room, past Sam in the doorway.

Sam just swallowed hard, caught up in the wake of Dean's anger and frustration. He felt small and useless, knowing that no matter how this hunt went down, Dean would forever be haunted by the quiver in the little girl's voice and the shadow of the three that were lost.

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"So," Dean sighed, "Which one are we dealing with? Each Uisge, Kelpie, Pooka?"

"Pooka's not a water spirit…" Sam said absent-mindedly, typing on his laptop.

"Then why am I thinking of it?" Dean asked, cocking his head and squinting his eyes in thought.

"Because it takes the form of a horse too."

"Ah, so alright, no Pooka…I still know there's like a million different kinds of these fuckers."

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "But most of them are just regional variations of each other, pretty much the same thing. But I think this one in particular is a Kelpie."

"Wait a minute, you just said they were all the same…"

"Kelpies in particular are known to be black," he said, ticking off one finger, "And live in running water," he finished, ticking off a second. "Each Uisges like lakes and ponds, still water. The rest are pretty much variations on those two."

"Alright, so how do we kill this fucker? Send it to the glue factory."

Sam smirked and rolled his eyes. "Dunno, couldn't find anything online, but according to Dad someone he ran into killed one with iron," he said, flipping through John's journal to the page and sliding it across the small table so Dean could see the note their father had scribbled in the corner about water horses.

"Makes sense," Dean mumbled, "They're related to fays in some sorta way right?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess so, extended family or something."

"Man, I hate those tricksy bastards," Dean grumbled, snapping the journal closed.

Sam agreed.

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"Man, what kind of friggin' girls scouts were these kids?" Dean grumbled, trampling his way through the underbrush.

Sam chuckled, "We've camped in worse places."

"It's not that, these are like, _girl scouts_, and they were all the way out in the middle of BFE!"

And yeah, okay, they were in the middle of fucking nowhere. New York wilderness stretched out all around them for miles, the only sign of civilization they had passed was an old cabin that was falling down around itself, and they hadn't even made it to the river yet.

"Who knows, maybe they were going for their hiking badge _and_ their camping badge."

"More like their 'as far away from civilization as we can get' badge," Dean mumbled, slapping some branches away from his face. "And who the fuck goes camping in the middle of winter?"

"It's not the middle of winter Dean," Sam sighed, smirking despite himself.

"It's January," Dean said, halting his stomping for a second, "It's fucking winter."

Sam chuckled and just kept hiking.

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"You hear that?"

Dean paused, "Water, awesome, so we're close."

Another five minutes of trampling through the underbrush and they finally found the river, little bits of yellow police tape still clinging to the trees. Although, the fact that they cordoned off anything this far out was ridiculous.

Kelpies didn't really have an exact pattern, they kinda showed up whenever they damn well pleased, so they were careful about how they approached the water. Not to mention there were still layers of ice that had yet to melt away completely.

"Careful Sam!" Dean snapped as Sam went crawling up a rock on the bank.

"Relax man," Sam huffed, squatting down and grabbing a stick to poke something.

"What is it?" Dean asked, crawling up the stone beside Sam, curiosity drawing him in like a cat.

Sam made a face of disgust just as Dean caught sight of what it was.

"Ugh, man, is that what I think it is?"

"Yup, a liver, or well, what's left of one."

"God, I hate this case," Dean groaned.

"Ditto," Sam sighed.

They poked around a little bit more, not that they needed to, but unless the Kelpie decided to show itself there wasn't much else they could do.

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"It's starting to get dark," Dean said, rubbing his hands together, "Why don't you start setting up camp, it's not worth going back to the car if we're just gonna have to come back out. I'm gonna go take a leak. I'll pick up some firewood too."

Sam nodded, already reaching for his backpack where they had packed the essentials in case of this exact scenario.

Dean had an armful of wood and was grumbling about stupid girls and their stupid love of horses when he heard the splashes and yells.

He dropped what he had and started running.

He made it back to the river just in time to see Sam, on the damn thing's back, pull the trigger on his pistol, the crack of the gun being drowned out by the sound of thunder as the horse, along with Sam, disappeared under the icy water.

"Sam!" Dean screamed, already running for the water, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the blossom of red erupt under the surface.

"Goddamnit," he hissed, practically tearing his jacket off and brandishing his knife, ready to plunge into the river himself when Sam resurfaced, spluttering and teeth chattering.

"You crazy ass bastard! What were you thinking?!" Dean yelled, blind with rage and fear, crawling across the mud to pull Sam back up through the ice along the bank.

"C-couldn't," Sam stuttered, "Had to r-ride it, couldn't get c-close enough otherw-wise."

"You stupid fucking idiot!" Dean hissed, yanking Sam's wet jacket off and wrapping him in his own dry one. "What if that damn thing had pulled you under huh? What if it had gotten you? God, you're such an idiot…" he rambled, rubbing up and down Sam's arms.

"Aww, were you w-worried about m-me?" Sam smirked.

"Shut the hell up you stupid bastard," Dean hissed, grabbing the forgotten weapons and Sam's sodden jacket and shoving them in his backpack.

"We gotta get back to town or you're gonna freeze to death."

"D-dean," Sam chattered, knowing there was no way he was going to make it the entire hike back to the car. Dean would end up having to carry him if they tried.

Dean froze and sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, knowing what Sam wasn't saying.

"Yeah, I know…I…" he sighed again. They could build a fire here but he wasn't too keen on staying outdoors in the elements and wind with Sam soaked and freezing the way he was.

"You think you can make it to that trash heap of a cabin we saw?"

"M-maybe," Sam shivered, "I can t-try."

Dean nodded, pulling out the blanket from Sam's backpack and wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Come on Popsicle, let's see how far we can get."

"S-shut up, j-jerk," Sam grinned, teeth clicking together.

Dean shivered himself, more out of worry than cold and smirked back half-heartedly.

"Bitch."

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Halfway back to the cabin and Sam was shivering harder, his lips and face pale. It wasn't too much longer before he was slowing down and dragging his feet. Dean had to drape his arm over his shoulders to help support him and called on his own reserve of power and will to trudge them the rest of the way to the broken down shelter.

He propped Sam up on one of the beams of the porch and kicked in the door, steering Sam inside.

He was grateful to find the little building did in fact have a fireplace and nudged Sam over to sit on the floor in front of it.

"I'm gonna go see if there's a mattress or something," he said, pausing when Sam didn't acknowledge him.

"Sam," he barked, squatting back down in front of him. It took snapping his fingers before Sam's unfocused eyes slid over to him. "I'm gonna look around and we'll get a fire started, okay?" he asked, rubbing his palm up and down where Sam's arm was under their own army blanket.

Sam nodded slowly and Dean shot back to his feet, disturbed by the blue cast to Sam's lips and determined to get a fire started as soon as possible.

There was a mattress in the back room, it was disgusting and had a couple holes in it but it was still better than the cold wooden floor. Dean dragged it out into the living area and flopped it down in front of Sam.

"Sam?" he asked, hesitant and worried, eyeing the way Sam sat so still.

Sam slowly looked up at him and the corner of his lips twitched.

"I'm alright," he drawled, slow and quiet.

Dean figured if he was still able to respond intelligently than it couldn't be too terrible and went stomping back through the house, dragging old end tables and a couple chairs from the kitchen and breaking them up with his boots to go in the fireplace. The spindly legs and pieces wouldn't last long but it should be enough to get Sam warmed up. Enough to where Dean felt safe leaving him alone to collect more.

"Alright," Dean mumbled, starting the fire with his Zippo. "Time to get you warmed up," he said as he twisted around and grabbed the bag he had been carrying. He pulled out a cheap sleeping bag and unzipped it so he could cover the mattress. Then he pulled the blanket off from around Sam's shoulders.

Sam moaned and made a feeble attempt to grab at the scratchy fabric.

"S'cold."

"I know, I know," Dean muttered, "But body heat's the best, you know that," he said, already yanking Sam's shirt up over his head. "C'mon dude, I know it sucks but help me out here and we can get you warmed up."

Sam tried to help, he really did. He was freezing, teeth still chattering and he could barely move his fingers and hands, long gone numb and sore against the chill but he knew, had it drilled into him by their father that warm, _dry_, body heat, was much better than the little protection his still half-wet clothes would provide.

He might have blushed when Dean reached for his belt and jeans' button, but his cheeks had been burning since he had been dragged into the river so he doubted it made much difference. Wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last that either of them had been shoved into an awkward situation with each other because of some war wounds. So he endured and tried to help Dean as much as he could with pulling the stiff, damp denim and boots off his legs and feet.

Dean left him in his damp boxers and laid the rest of his clothes out flat on the floor between the mattress and fire, they'd be dirty and stiff but at least they'd be dry by the time they needed to hike back to the car.

He manhandled Sam and tipped him sideways onto the mattress, where he curled up on his side and faced the fire, shivering and watching as the flames slowly took root and licked their way up the chunks of wood.

He heard Dean rustle behind him and next thing he knew Dean's bare chest was hot against his back. He shivered hard at the sudden change and inhaled sharp.

"Shh, I know, I know," Dean mumbled, wrapping his arm around Sam's stomach and pulling the army blanket over them both. "It'll even out soon," he murmured.

Sam's shivering was finally starting to die down a few minutes later. Dean reached up and rubbed up and down his arm and sighed. Sam froze, stopped shivering and all, when he felt Dean's lips drag over the knob at the base of his neck. It wasn't a kiss but it was still startling and intimate.

"You gotta stop doing this to me," Dean mumbled, the warm air from his mouth and the movement of his lips causing a tremor to race down Sam's spine, which just made Dean start rubbing his arm again.

"I can't do this alone Sam," he whispered again into the silence.

Sam swallowed hard.

"Yes you can," he mumbled. Dean was stronger than Sam would ever be. He might have told himself otherwise when he was wrapped up in the lies of Ruby, but when it came down to it Dean would sacrifice everything, except Sam, to do what was right, to save the friggin' world.

"Well I don't want to," he replied immediately, voice still hushed in the dark.

The silence was heavy for a couple minutes, eerily silent out here in the wilderness. No traffic or people or ambient noise for miles.

"There's a good chance we're not gonna make it out of this," Dean finally said quietly. "We'll go down swingin' for sure, but we might not have a whole lotta days left."

He paused again and Sam knew to bite his tongue. Whatever Dean was trying to say was important, Dean rarely let himself open up and Sam knew he was probably weighing his words in his mind before giving voice to them.

"My point is, I don't wanna spend 'em fighting with you," he finally finished.

Sam was still shaking in fits and bursts, still chilled but not to the extent he had been. It still took him a minute to find his voice again. They hadn't been fighting, tonight at least, but it didn't take a genius to know where and why Dean had dragged that out of himself.

"You said you couldn't trust me again," he finally mumbled, annoyed with himself for poking at the sore spot. But it was out there, no taking it back now and if Dean was going to do this, give him this chance to talk, he was damn well going to take it.

Dean sighed, chest pressing tight against Sam's back, still reluctant to move away from him, convinced he still needed the extra warmth.

"I said I didn't know if I _could_. I…" he trailed off. Sam bit his lip, knowing more was coming he just needed to give Dean the time. "Damnit," he hissed quietly, more to himself than to Sam. "I know we've got our issues Sam, but…but you're still my little brother," he finally mumbled.

Sam's chest went tight like he had just been thrown back into the icy water of the river and it took him a moment before he could respond.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking on a shiver.

"I know you are," Dean sighed again, his arm coming over and tightening around Sam's chest like a band. "I know you are," he mumbled again. "We both made mistakes Sam."

"I made the bigger ones," Sam immediately answered. It was true, they both had said things, done things that they wished they could take back, but the wrongdoings on Sam's part had carried far more consequences in terms of their relationship. "I wish I could go back," he whispered into the silence that followed.

"I know you do," Dean mumbled again. "I do too."

They listened to the small fire crackle and pop, watched as some of the charred wood shifted and sent up a little spiral of embers. For several minutes it was the only sound in the small room.

"I know it worries you," Dean said, finally breaking the silence. "And I know it annoys the crap out of you, but I just wanna get past this Sam, I just wanna…I just wanna bury it and move on."

Sam sighed, dropping his head, he knew that's how Dean dealt with these kinds of things, but it was true, it did annoy him, did worry him something fierce.

"It's not something I can forget," Dean mumbled, his own voice cracking, like admitting it was some crime against Sam, "But if you give me time Sammy…if you give me some time I can forgive it."

Sam inhaled sharp, oxygen shuddering into his lungs. He knew Dean meant it, knew that no matter what he had done or did do in the future Dean was always, _always,_ going to be right there behind him. And he thinks, sudden and clear in that moment, that that's how they're going to survive this. That's how they're going to get through.

Lucifer fell because he didn't agree with his brothers, had none standing by his side. The angels rebelled, fought against each other after their father vanished. And Lucifer mistakenly assumed that Sam understood. But that's where he was wrong. Because Sam always and will always have one thing Lucifer doesn't, Dean. Dean will always be right there beside him, backing him up, protecting him from himself. Which is precisely the reason he will never say yes to that lying, pathetic bastard.

He smiles soft to himself, a sudden weight lifting from his chest. Hope on the horizon. He quietly shifts, slipping his foot over the back of Dean's calf.

"Goddamn, keep your icicle toes to yourself Sam," Dean grumbles, leg twitching against the cold press of flesh, but he does nothing to move Sam.

And Sam thinks, _exactly. _

"Are you with me?" he whispers minutes later.

He can feel the rumble of a chuckle through Dean's chest.

"Yeah," he sighs and Sam knows he's grinning, "Yeah Sam, I'm with you."


End file.
